Magelia hated the sight of him.

Tonight, he was beautifully dressed in black breeches, a tan shirt, and a chocolate brown tunic, with his hair carefully combed back. Behind him stood a young serving girl, clearly terrified of her lord. Magelia didn't recognize the girl, so she hadn't come from Chemestiik. The girl carried a silk gown, a hairbrush, and pins. The gown's color was somewhere between ivory and pale pink.

'Take off that rag you're wearing," Lord Massing ordered. "This girl will dress you properly."

"Not until you get out," Magelia replied. She would not show him any fear.

"You will not speak alone to anyone," he said. 'Take off that dress, or I will do it for you."

It was not a threat. She could see that he was simply informing her of the consequences and waited for her to decide which indignity she chose. Magelia began unlacing her blue dress, and the girl hurried to assist her.

Magelia turned away from Lord Massing to stand in nothing but her shift while the serving girl helped her into the silk gown and laced it tightly. The girl then brushed out her hair and pinned part of it atop her head, leaving enough free to curl down her shoulders and the back of her neck.

"Sir?" the girl asked when she had finished.

Bryen nodded. "Yes, much better."

Before Magelia turned around, he grasped her forearm. She didn't bother to fight, as it would do no good. He pulled her from the room and down the passage to another chamber.

Through its open door she saw a large four-poster bed. Upon a small table, a globe rested in an iron pedestal. Lights flickered within its frosted glass. As she stepped inside, a movement caught her attention. Magelia saw herself in a long mirror on the wall by the table.

She looked like a lady, one who might accompany her lord in the keep.

The room appeared clean but had the thin stench of a spilled chamber pot overlaid with a lingering sweet odor she couldn't name. There were two others present as Lord Massing stepped in behind her. She saw their reflections in the mirror with her own and turned about.

Standing near the bed was the masked and robed eyesore called Ubad. He wore a smile on his thin lips and tucked his hands into the opposing sleeves of his charcoal robe. On the far side of the bed stood Welstiel.

She'd heard him refer to Lord Massing as Father, but Welstiel looked to be the elder of the two. Fine lines surrounded his cold eyes, and his dark hair was white at the temples. Her opinion of him was only slightly better than that of the other two. He was quiet and removed, and he seemed to disapprove of both her presence and captivity.

On a narrow stand beside Ubad was a strange vessel, not unlike a vase that she'd once seen used for cut flowers. Metallic and yellow red, perhaps made of brass, it was covered in etched symbols. A dark liquid filled it nearly to the top, though its color was unclear in the room's low light. It made her anxious when she realized that the thick, sweet scent in the room came from whatever the vessel held. She tried to back away. Lord Massing's hand flattened against her back. Magelia stepped farther into the room, away from his touch.

Welstiel looked her over, and she saw that his face looked different from before. His dark eyes were flat and emotionless like Lord Bryen's. His skin was pale.

"Is she not improved, my son?" Lord Bryen said. "I had the gown purchased in Stravina and sent all the way from its capital, Vudran, just for this night. I've seen you admire women in this color and style."

Fear began to grow in Magelia.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

All three men ignored her.

"I have no interest in anything you ask, Father. " Welstiel said. "You might as well take her back to her room. Or better yet, release her from this lunacy."

Bryen shoved Magelia toward Welstiel. She caught herself on the nearest post of the bed. A heavy curved sword leaned by the headboard behind Welstiel, and she froze.

"You will do as I say!" Bryen ordered, and a semblance of anger surfaced in his voice. "The careful and costly steps of Master Ubad cannot be wasted. It has taken him a lifetime of preparation for this night."

His voice lowered and softened, but Magelia kept her eyes on Welstiel's face, occasionally glancing to the sword.

"You play a role far greater than you know, my son," Bryen continued. "You will sire our patron's treasured one. A Noble Dead cannot lead its own kind in what is to come, nor can a mere mortal. Something of both is needed. You will hold the esteemed position of father to a being this world has never seen, even in its forgotten days. A herald of what is to come when our patron wakes again."

Magelia's stomach twisted. She didn't understand all she heard, but one thing was clear.

"Do as Master Ubad instructs," Bryen said to his son. "Drink the collected life of the five that has been prepared for you. Then take this girl and make a child of day and night before which all the world will fall. I know this woman appears to be only a peasant, but she is from old blood, very old, and a singular vessel for this creation."

Welstiel's dull eyes widened.

"You want me to drink more blood… and make a child with… with that?" He gestured to Magelia. "No! Even when I would have done anything to please you, I wouldn't have done this. I will not touch blood again or touch this woman."

"Young lord, you do not understand-," Ubad began gently.

"Quiet!" Welstiel shouted. "You are the cause of all this, and I am sick of your poisoned tongue."

He pushed past his father, and to Magelia's surprise, he broke easily away from Bryen's grip on his shoulder.

Welstiel paused when he reached the door. "If you wish to serve that masked abomination," he spat back at Bryen. "You will have to accomplish it without me."

He slapped the door open with one hand and slammed it shut behind him.

Bryen circled around the bed to the door but stopped short, staring at it. Magelia began inching nearer to the sword.

Lord Massing and Master Ubad stood still.

"Can I take his place?" Bryen suddenly asked. "Will it still work?"

Ubad's mask made it difficult to read his reaction, but Magelia knew he was startled. His mouth dropped open briefly, as if Bryen's suggestion horrified him.

Magelia reached the far post of the bed's foot and was about to step toward the sword.

Ubad finally answered in an anxious voice. "There must be a way you can command him. He is your son."

Bryen looked at Magelia, and she froze where she stood. "Desire cannot be commanded," he said. "And we cannot fail now that we've come so far."

Ubad bowed his head until Magelia no longer saw his mask, but there was something akin to sorrow or regret in his voice.

"No, we cannot fail," he whispered. "I have heard our patron, stood before him within his dream. I spent my life at his bidding in this task… Prepare yourself."

Lord Bryen let his tunic slide off to the floor, and he removed his shirt. His chest and arms were tightly muscled but pale and hairless. There was no sign of a wound or scar where Magelia had stabbed him with the knife in her cottage. Ubad lifted the brass vase, and handed it to Bryen.

Magelia tried to make herself small and invisible. She kept one eye on Bryen and inched along the bed's far side.

"When the spirits fade, you must drink immediately," Ubad told Lord Bryen.

He began chanting in a low voice that slowly grew louder. Magelia felt a breeze pass through the room, though there was no open door or window. The bedclothes whipped up from around the mattress, and she shrank away.

Two softly glowing shapes materialized near Ubad. They grew sharper and clearer as his chanting increased. They were transparent, but Magelia saw the color of their hair and clothing. One was a lovely middle-aged woman with light brown hair. She wore a tan wool dress and crown of leaves on her head. The other was a savage-looking woman with matted black hair. She wore black armor like large reptilian scales, and when she opened her mouth to hiss at Ubad, Magelia saw elongated fangs.